


If I Will Wake Up One Day And Miss You Too Much

by lasorcas



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: 2019 Season, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barcelona testing, Come Eating, F/M, Hair-pulling, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Longing, M/M, Oral Sex, RIP my dignity, Renault!Daniel, Teammates with Benefits, You got me, have fun enjoy, i doubt there's a tag for that, is gonna be the death of me, max is the king of deep throating so if you want lessons feel free to call him, oh they're both still in their racing suits, rip max' knees, well more like ex-teammates with benefits, what else, whatever really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 17:59:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17872082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasorcas/pseuds/lasorcas
Summary: He’d spent three months longing and dreaming and jerking off in the bathroom while Dilara was still asleep in their shared bed to the thought of Daniel grabbing his body and pounding him into the mattress like they’ve done a million times during their years as teammates, and now he only gets thirty minutes with him. It’s fucking unfair, isn’t it?





	If I Will Wake Up One Day And Miss You Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> i'm telling y'all renault!daniel is something out of this world, the bumblebee gives me way too much inspiration.  
> thank you all so much for your amazing feedback on my recent work!!! i mean it, you are the reason i'm posting this so soon xx  
> and ofc as always, i hope you'll enjoy this filthiness!! <3  
> (the title is from a song called Nadir by Tender and i highly recommend you to check it out!)

Max’ hand is trembling as he types the message on his phone. Perhaps, it’s the outcome of the fifty-two laps he’s just done after not having been on track for almost three months straight; perhaps, it is not. He wouldn’t be surprised, regarding how violently his heart is banging at his ribcage as he stands there outside the black-and-yellow motorhome, praying to every God he knows that no camera is going to appear here any time soon. He’s fully in his Red Bull Racing overalls, the sleeves of it hanging loosely somewhere on his hips and licking at his shins with the cuffs, so it won’t take much to distinguish him as Max Verstappen standing outside the Renault motorhome during the lunch break. That’d hit the headlines, for sure.

Fortunately, the black glossy door opens, and as Max’ eyes shoot up they crash with the cheerful yet cautious gaze of a pair of brown ones. Max’ throat goes dry at once.

“Come in,” Daniel beckons and drags him inside by clenching the hem of his team jacket; Max almost stumbles but manages to remain standing, stepping hastily inside the cozy, dim lighted motorhome that smells of Daniel’s perfume. Absentmindedly, he takes in a deep breath, sneakily looking around. It’s spacious - as spacious as a motorhome can possibly be - and not so different to what they have at Red Bull. It looks less decadent for sure, but still carries the overall luxurious look of F1 - and most importantly, of Daniel, - in its interior. There is a crumpled bunch of clothes on the wide cream leather sofa; a box of protein bars on the floor next to it and Dan’s old speaker on the table. It screams of Daniel, expect for it’s not the Daniel Max is used to. The clothes are black and yellow and there isn’t a single can of Red Bull in the room.

“Welcome to my crib,” Daniel’s voice snaps him back to reality. “It’s changed quite a bit, huh?”

“Yeah,” Max’ gaze follows Dan is he appears from behind his back and lumbers in his usual chill, zero-fucks-given manner to the sofa to put the clothes in the corner, clearly trying to bring some order into the room. He’s wearing his racing suit and the longer Max looks at it the weirder it feels. It’s plain black, partly yellow, but that’s sensible; it fits Daniel’s slim body just perfectly, the round of his rear evident and mouth-watering. But that’s not the case. He looks neither better nor worse. He just looks different.

“You’ve changed quite a bit as well,” Max voices his thoughts, Daniel’s grin growing wider in response.

“Have I really?” He gives up on trying to sort his clothes, stiffening his spine and turning to Max, connecting their gazes. “Well, we’ve not seen each other for three months,” he reminds in his low, husky voice and Max knows this tone and feels something starting to bloom in his belly.

“Yeah,” Max echoes, hot all of a sudden and sweating beneath his fireproofs. Daniel chuckles inaudibly, taking another step to close the distance between them. Max is almost intimidated by how handsome Daniel is. The honey tan on his skin has grown thicker, and he looks so much younger in his banana suit and with a fresh haircut and clean shave and this infatuating, delightful smile that gives you the feeling like all of your problems are suddenly gone and your life has been incredibly bland before this exact moment and the only thing left to care about is this grin and the warm joy that comes with it.

“Y’know, it’s been a long three months,” Dan murmurs, tilting his head like a puppy at its reflection in the mirror. 

“It has,” Max only has to whisper, and it’s their way of saying the ‘I missed you’s, it’s their way of confessing. They’ve never been good at it anyway. What they have been good at is the touching, the feeling, the listening, but not the talking, no. And they both seem to acknowledge it as Daniel looks down at Max’ hand only to cover it with his own, fingers fumbling at his. 

“How much time do we have?”

“About half an hour.”

“Good,” Max breathes out, but he doesn’t mean it. Thirty minutes is not ‘good’ by any means. In fact, he thinks, thirty minutes is disastrously bad. He’d spent three months longing and dreaming and jerking off in the bathroom while Dilara was still asleep in their shared bed to the thought of Daniel grabbing his body and pounding him into the mattress like they’ve done a million times during their years as teammates, and now he only gets thirty minutes with him. It’s fucking unfair, isn’t it? 

It’s as if Daniel read his thoughts he connects their mouths abruptly, their teeth clashing and a groan slipping through Max’s lips. He gropes at the sides of Daniel’s suit, twisting the thin fabric in his fingers and pulling him forward, pressing his body into Daniel’s, hungry, in desperate need to taste, to feel and to receive what he’s been longing for all these months. Daniel is clasping his team jacket, blindly finding the zipper and pulling it down, eager hands slithering underneath it to rest on Max’ sides where the heat is concentrated under the fabric. Their kiss grows more and more frenzied, tongues sliding against each other, saliva mixing and even dripping from Max’ chin and he has to bring a hand up to smudge it. Daniel is demanding on his mouth, robbing Max of breath and drinking in the quiet noises of excitement that leave his throat.

Then, Daniel shoves him in the chest, pushing the air out of his lungs. Max’ eyes shoot open, his head dizzy, his legs weak and his whole body going into its autonomous mode, neglecting any calls his mind makes. He gets the hint and falls on the sofa, Daniel following suit and sitting next to him and grabbing his fireproof top to drag him into a new frenetic kiss.

“How do you want it?” he halts to whisper in Max’ lips.

“I don’t care,” Max breathes out and thrusts his mouth into Daniel’s, bringing both hands up to clench and pull at the silky curls on the back of his head. He doesn’t even know why he does that; he just loves the feeling of Daniel, every single one of his features, every curl, every curve, every imperfection. The way Daniel breathes and the way he smells; his gasps and bites and kisses; the way his new suit fits him and even how different it is to what Max is used to.

They both know it’s silly after all. It’s always been silly, no doubt, but with their careers parting it’s now not only folly but incredibly risky as well. Being team mates with benefits is easy - you’re together most of the time, you travel together, you live in the same hotel, sometimes even in the same room. Team mates can always sneak out, find a room, a corner to themselves, and after all even if anyone ever finds out, it’s going to stay within the team for the sake of its reputation. Now, it’s a sheer hide-and-seek, but with blindfolds on and a limited time and places to hide. And, the whole world is going to be looking for you. They both knew they should stop if they don’t want to get in trouble; but they knew they’ll always keep coming back together in the end. Because no one feels like Daniel. Not even Dilara.

He’s fumbling at the zipper of Max’ racing suit, opening it fully and shoving a hand down his pants. Max’ moan disintegrates in Daniel’s mouth; he’s palming him hastily through the damp fireproofs, a swollen cock stretched out underneath it. Max instinctively snaps his hips forward, to get some more friction, more coverage, more Daniel.

“You,” Daniel gasps, breaking the kiss in order not to suffocate before the testing even begins for him, “Max, you…”

“I know,” Max chuckles, leaving a peck on Daniel’s lips, “I know.”

He jostles his arm somehow to place his palm in Daniel’s crotch, the Renault suit clearly not made for boners as his evident arousal stretches the tight fabric on his thigh. Max starts stroking him slowly, drawing the outline of his cock, the edge of his palm going over the tip time after time and Dan needs some time to gather up the last drops of consciousness he still got left. Max watches his face tensing, his eyes closing and a frown touching his features, lips parted, a tip of his tongue peeking out from between the white teeth. He’s seen this expression a million times before and he still can’t get used to it, the privilege to see Daniel like that, no, to make him feel this way is too overwhelming and too inconceivable for him to even try and wrap his head around it.

“C’mon,” Daniel groans, unzipping his own racing suit. “We don’t have much time, remember?”

Max curses at the reminder, shit, he hates doing it in hurry but there is no other option for them, not for now. He helps Daniel get out of his suit so it’s hanging on his hips just like Max’ and slips to the floor and on his knees, in between Daniel’s legs where he belongs. He’s too tall and his back will undoubtedly be sore after this but he couldn’t care less. His fingers are cold and shaky as he tugs Dan’s pants down, his swollen cock springing free.

“There you go,” Daniel whispers, combing Max’ hair with his fingers and turning it into even more of a mess than it’s already been after fifty-two laps of driving. Max wraps his fingers around his cock casually, bringing his face closer to press his tongue into the salty, wet tip, licking off the precum. Daniel lets out a moan that somehow evolves into a shaky laugh, fingers clenching on Max’ freshly cut hair. “Take it in, boy, I know you can.”

And Max obeys and he catches himself wondering how comes he only ever obeys Daniel when they’re fucking. How comes out of all people it’s only Daniel who gets to tell him what to do and how to do it and Max always yields eagerly, hungrily. The things he’s done for Daniel he’s never ever thought he’d do in his life because it’s too shameful and too embarrassing and yet, there he is, on his knees before one of his greatest competitors, ready to jump off a cliff if he wishes. It’s never going to be the case out on track, Daniel knows; but they’re not wearing helmets, are they? And he knows damn well he’s the only person on this planet that has been granted this great privilege, to break Max only to build him up again, only to wreck him harder next time.

Max relaxes his throat and squeezes his eyes shut, taking Daniel in until his nose is brushing against the smooth skin of his lower belly. Daniel waits to make sure Max’ reflexes are still as poor as they were few months ago, and presses a hand to his nape, keeping him in place and thrusting into the embracing, silky heat of his throat. A gagging noise leaves Max’ mouth but he stays where he is, his fingernails digging into the leather of the sofa. He endures the reflex, the instinctive urge to back up and let go while Daniel fucks his mouth slowly at first but finds his pace eventually. And then Dan lets go, and Max straightens his spine, panting and sweating and collecting the saliva dripping down his chin with his fingers.

“Look at you,” he hears Dan’s whispers of praise. “Can you imagine I’m so lucky to have you?”

Max smiles almost humbly, the words of compliment running up and down his spine in shivers. He licks his lips and lowers himself again, mouth wrapping around Daniel’s salty, thick cock. He smells of male, the musky scent of a man driving Max crazy, guiding him close to his own release. His head is elsewhere, the common sense going on a walk outside, leaving sheer animal instincts to take care of the house, nothing but desire to deliver pleasure.

The tip of Daniel’s dick hits the back of his throat, muscles in there contracting violently but he suppresses the urge successfully. The palm on the back of his head starts pressing, and he goes further and further, extraordinary in his compliance. He’s twisting the sleeve of Dan’s suit as Dan guides his head, fucking into his mouth, panting and gasping and moaning; the noises mix with the sounds of Max gagging, creating a cacophony of wet, crude sounds that drive them both insane.

And then, Dan pulls at his hair, making him spit his dick out. Max has to take in a sharp breath, coughing slightly at the irritating feeling in his throat, and looks at Daniel to see him covering his eyes with his palm, his chest heaving rapidly. Max can’t help but laugh.

“You’re close?”

Daniel hums something in response, unveiling his face and meeting Max’ eyes. 

“You’re way too good at this,” he says, caressing Max’ cheek with his the back of his palm, a gesture oddly gentle for the situation they’re in. “You want me to fuck you?”

Max nods a bit too enthusiastically, and Dan swears that if he had a tail it’d be wagging in anticipation. He slips to the floor, Max already knowing what Dan will want him to do and placing himself on all fours, waiting patiently to be taken apart. Dan settles himself behind him, grabbing at his hips and pulling him closer.

“Y’know what,” Daniel says hoarsely, running a hand up Max’ spine to clench a fist on his hair, forcing him to tilt his head. “You haven’t changed at all. Still a fucking slut for me.”

He pulls at Max’ hair, making his mouth fall open, and Max whimpers at the feeling of the pants of his racing suit being pulled down, fresh, cool air hitting the sensitive skin. Dan leaves it there, on his mid-thighs, along with the fireproofs and his underwear, and presses himself into Max, his cock sliding between his asscheeks. Max has to stand on his fingers almost due to how determinedly Daniel is pulling at his hair, and his body quivers when he feels Dan so slick, big and juicy on his entrance. 

Oh God, it’s really been months.

Dan’s hand dives down, fingers wrapping around Max’ hanging cock, squeezing and pressing and Max chokes on his moan, trying to jostle his head out of Dan’s strong hold. The hand on his dick starts moving, stroking him hard; the precum starts dropping from the tip and onto the carpeted floor, leaving dark patches there. 

His head drops when Daniel’s fingers leave his hair to grab at his hip instead, to intercept any wiggles he knows Max will be doing. He slides his fingers from Max’ wet cock and to his entrance, the pad of his middle finger putting pressure and reluctantly pushing inside. Max whines at the dry feeling and tries to move away, but Daniel is holding him in place firmly with his other hand.

“Wait,” Dan breathes out, and suddenly the hands are gone as he reaches over to his backpack on the floor and, after a few moments of seeking, pulls out a bottle of lube. Max bucks his rear up in anticipation, taking in the sounds of Daniel opening the bottle - pop! - and squeezing some of the liquid on his fingers. 

The lube is cold and wet when Dan touches him again, but the finger slides in without any resistance, already a knuckle deep in one quick movement. Max groans, and the noises he makes get muffled as he drops his head to the floor, his forearm serving as a pillow. Daniel is demanding, dominant, and it’s almost so good he can’t believe he gets to experience it all again. He’s sweating greatly underneath all the clothing, the jacket and fireproofs and racing suit and everything still on him, only tugged down on his hips. His fluorescent shoes are uncomfortable but he knows he can’t do anything about it, they can’t afford undressing each others fully, can’t afford long foreplays and cuddles afterwards. He wishes one day it’ll be the case again, but for now it might be once or twice a month if they’re lucky, not every evening like it used to be; and it’s quick and cautious, somewhere in the shadows, hidden behind a door of a toilet cabin, not on the luxurious hotel beds with sheets that smell of money, and not the long and definitely worthwhile make out sessions, petting, foreplays, and hours and hours of fucking until they’re both ruined, so out of breath and energy they fall asleep in each other’s arms, covered in sweat and come and kisses.

Dan is stretching him with two fingers now, and Max can feel himself slowly but steadily losing his mind. The cock hanging in between his legs craves attention, but he isn’t willing to try and do something with it himself. 

“Good?” Daniel asks like he always does, and Max nods, breathing out.

“Yeah.”

It’s a ritual. He knows Dan will always ask first.

He listens way too carefully to the noises coming from behind, to the shuffling of the clothes, to whispers and to exhales; two wet hands on his naked hips pull at his rear, bringing him closer back, and Dan presses into him until the tip of his cock slips inside, both men moaning simultaneously at the sensation. Max is tight and hot and wet around him, welcoming and embracing, and Dan needs a second or two to adjust to the heat of his body, to his presence so excruciatingly close. He scratches at Max’ sides through the fireproofs, gesture meant to reassure, and Max is writhing beneath him, his facial expression tensed, cautious and yet his lips curve in a silent smile. His trembling arms finally give in and he lays his head of the carpeted floor, cheek pressed into the raspy fabric, spine curving so oddly graciously. 

Fuck, he’d already forgotten how good Max feels.

His first move comes in sharp, pushing a low moan out of Max. He snaps his hips to meet Max’, skin slapping skin shortly, and then does it again, and again, and again, and every time he draws a sharp moan out of Max, digging his fingernails into the thick meaty flesh of his hips.

“Fuck,” Max breathes out, pushing his ass back into Daniel’s crotch, “fuck, you’re so deep.”

And it draws a smirk on Dan’s lips. He twists the fabric of Max’ overalls in his fingers, Max no more than a puppet in his hands, willing to do anything he is told. Daniel pounds him, every new thrust dragging him closer towards the sweet release, blunt thumping of their bodies on the floor following suit, Max scratching the raspy surface of the carpet with his fingers, trying to find something, anything to hold on to. Dan catches it and stops, hand sliding down Max’ spine to land on his hand, their fingers intertwining, Max squeezing him eagerly. They halt for a moment, bodies connected, hands pressed together in such an innocent way, catching their breaths and both looking at where their fingers twist and grasp at each other’s as if there’s something more behind that than they can possibly see. 

Max wiggles beneath him impatiently then, forcing Daniel to start moving again. He’s pins and needles all over his body, in his bones and in his heart, waves of pleasure shooting through him, warning him that it’s not far away now, the release, the sweet agony. His legs tremble and weaken and eventually give in, Daniel catching him and lowering them both carefully; Max’ whole body squeezed between the floor and Daniel. The Aussie is heavy, but it’s a delightful heaviness, it’s a shell that protects Max from the world, that gives him a chance to hide and to be real, to be noisy, to be wrecked. Daniel rolls his hips, his rhythm sloppier and heavier as Max takes in the sounds of him panting and the sight of their fingers pressed together in a shaky mess. He wishes he could feel Daniel properly, not through the abundance of layers of clothing separating them; but the fireproof top Daniel is wearing is black, and it’s so different to the dark blue with a fluorescent Red Bull logo beneath him, and it’s confusing and exciting and arousing and saddening and all at once. He’s overwhelmed with how drastically Daniel has changed over the course of three months, and how he still managed to stay… Daniel. 

“Dan,” leaves his mouth involuntarily, the name so familiar on his tongue it burns.

“Mm,” he hears humming so close to his ear it’s actually tickling his earlobe. “I’m so close, baby.”

“Daniel, fuck,” Max cries out, squeezing Dan’s fingers, pushing himself backwards, forcing Dan even deeper, even closer. Their bodies work in unison, like a perfect mechanism together for one goal, and their breathings and their moans mix as well as their minds. Max starts to struggle breathing, the sensation of his orgasm so close and Daniel so heavy atop of him beginning to become too much for his body and his mind to handle and he jostles himself from underneath Daniel, making him move and pushing himself off Max’ body, kneeling behind him instead. Dan’s gaze dives down, to where his dick disappears in Max again and again, and twisting the fabric of his own black Renault fireproof in his fingers to pull it up, revealing the thick tan of his sculpted belly, muscles rolling and tensing underneath the thin skin. 

Max has clearly been doing his squats this winter, he thinks and chuckles, almost choking on his chuckle as a moan gets stuck in his throat. His head goes dizzy all of a sudden, his lungs burning, his legs shaking and his eyes squeezing shut. He clenches the dark blue fabric in his fingers so hard it threatens to get teared apart and buries himself inside Max, spilling deep into him. Max bites his lower lip, listening to the telltale sounds of Daniel coming, his hips hurting from how deeply Daniel is digging into the flesh with his other hand. 

Another second or minute or hour - neither of them is sure - and Daniel has fallen from his peak, panting and holding on to Max’ rear for dear life. Then, he wrestles his fingers from where it was trapped in Max’ overall, falling to the floor next to him, his own fireproofs pulled up, tanned belly and chest heaving rapidly. Max allows himself fall to his side, lips so dry they hurt, body so weak he’s not sure he’ll be able to get up and go and drive that car again today. 

“Come here,” Daniel says hoarsely, hugging Max by his side and pulling him closer. He slides a hand in between his legs, forcing him to move them, and Max is lying on his back now, legs spread wide, the mess that is his racing suit beneath his sweat-wet body. He starts falling asleep himself, all energy suddenly sucked out of him - when Daniel wraps his fingers around his cock, thumb pressing into the sensitive tip, waves of electricity shooting through his entire body in a warning once again. He can’t do much but moan and thrust into Dan’s hand and squeeze the black sleeve of his overall in his fingers, Daniel slowly but steadily ripping him to shreds with his one hand. He finds Max’ mouth, lips connecting, tongues clashing once again; he keeps him close, a palm lying on Max’ cheek, another one working on his cock, and Max chokes on the realization - fuck, this is really happening. Goosebumps cover his whole body, his hips snap upwards to their own accord, and he can’t do anything else than just keep his mouth open for Daniel to lick into it, he can’t move, he can’t think, he can’t function properly - and then, it shoots him like a bullet. All of his muscles contracting simultaneously, his guts twisting and heart halting - and God, the noises he makes as he spills into Daniel’s hand. He struggles to keep them quiet, still aware of their surroundings, but what meant to be a quiet ‘ah’ escalates to a cry that ends - of course it does - with Daniel’s name. Dan’s smirk is evident on Max’ mouth, and he doesn’t stop for a second, guiding Max through his orgasm to the point where it feels so good it physically hurts and Max has to stop him by grabbing his wrist, hot stripes and drops of come all over Dan’s fingers and the sleeve of his fireproof and - fuck - all over Max’ covered belly. 

“Shit, man,” he catches Daniel chuckle through the noise in his ears. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

“Fuck you,” is all Max can say, Daniel’s come dripping from inside him, wet and sticky and disgusting in between his asscheeks. 

“Who’s gonna clean it up?” Dan asks rhetorically and dives down at once, tracing kisses from Max’ mouth to his chest and to his belly, collecting the come with his tongue. Max drops his head, the nape hitting the carpet with a thump as Daniel moves down, making sure not a single drop is omitted, not even the ones on Max’ cock - with Max gasping and jumping and cursing when a hot mouth appears around his overly sensitive dick, sucking him off quick and hard. When done with the cleaning, Dan lies back next to Max, the two men on the floor in the middle of the black and yellow motorhome, partly naked, mostly dressed, absolutely worn out. Dan looks at the ceiling as if there was anything entertaining there, Max looks on their bodies, black racing suit on Daniel and his spent cock on his lower belly.

“You look good,” he says and his voice is oddly harsh, so he has to clear his throat. “In those.”

“Yeah?” Dan smiles, turning his head to catch Max’ eyes. “I mean, I’d look good in anything.”

“True,” Max breathes out with a quiet chuckle. “Yeah.”

“How much time do you think we got left?”

Max shrugs, fumbling at his clothes, pulling his pants back on lazily.

“Not enough anyway,” he says nonchalantly and Daniel keeps his gaze on him for a bit longer, his expression pensive and yet unwinded. He just laughs it off then, lower lip caught between his teeth, and says no more.

**Author's Note:**

> you can always find me on my tumblr (@itsmaxver yeahhh baby). please leave kudos & comments if you found this piece somehow entertaining!! x


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